The Reaper Calls
by xmystorytime
Summary: One-shot. '"When did you stop walking?"' It's hard to fight your enemies, harder to fight your friends, but hardest to fight yourself. The fourteenth wants Allen, and it won't take no for an answer. Major character death. Angst. Blood.


**The Reaper Calls  
**

_Written by xmystorytime_

**Full Summary:** '"When did you stop walking?"' It's hard to fight your enemies, harder to fight your friends, but hardest to fight yourself. The fourteenth wants Allen, and it won't take no for an answer.

**Warnings: **Angst. Character death. Attempted suicide. Torture.

**Ships: **Slight Allen/Lenalee.

**Disclaimer: **I have nothing witty. So. Without further ado: I don't own the anime, or the song for that matter. Though I'm still looking for an Allen plushie.

* * *

"_You're the host necessary for his revival."_

It had been a long time since he couldn't get up and walk.

He couldn't do anything. One leg broken, the other torn and bleeding.

He couldn't do anything. His left shoulder shattered, the nerves in his right arm dead.

He couldn't do anything... except cling to Lavi's lifeless body; numb, wet fingers locked in place. Letting go would mean he'd gone. Letting go would mean he'd failed another friend. Letting go would mean he'd been unable to save Lavi just like he'd been unable to save Mana.

The rain pounded on skin, cleansing wounds and rinsing away a continuous stream of blood. His stained red hair clung to his forehead, his cheeks, and his uniform lay in shreds around the battlefield.

"You taste delicious A-_llen_," Road purred. Her pink tongue lapped at the dribbles of blood decorating her fingers. "Just – like – a – _doll_," he shuddered and clutched Lavi closer to his chest. There had to be something he could do, he couldn't be at the end of his rope. He just had to hold on until reinforcements came, hold on until hope returned, hold on to a world he didn't know how to live in.

He punched his ankles, tears falling freely to mingle with the deep red. Why wouldn't Crown Clown respond? Did it, too, think he deserved this? For being a sin, a curse? For what he was, and what haunted him?

"That won't help boy," Tyki laughed, raking a slim finger down his gaunt cheek and gently lifting his chin until their eyes met. "You know as well as I do that this is the end of the line."

"I won't give in," his voice broke. He'd worn it hoarse screaming. "I'll always come back."

"Oh really?" the Noah stood and revealed palms where thousands of Tease fluttered. "Well, so long as you're sure, I guess a little more torture won't hurt." Allen's breath caught.

No longer thinking, he threw himself over Lavi's body, preventing his friend from suffering anymore. He gasped silent cries as the Tease swarmed around him, tearing skin, clawing, munching, and it was _wrong _as much as it was right. He deserved this, didn't he? "That's enough." The pressure eased. He licked cracked lips, whimpering to the moon what felt like a millennium later. Blood bubbled out the corner of his mouth, dribbled down his chin. He wiped at it and let his arm drop, watching in morbid fascination as the trickle dripped onto the ground from his blackened finger.

Just like the leaky tap he'd once slaved beside, back at the circus; before the Order, before Mana. A drip, drip, drip. Except this liquid wasn't murky water, it was warm and red. His lifeblood.

But it didn't feel like it.

The world swum. Dull grey eyes squinted up at his tormentors, unable to figure out if he moved side to side or if the world had just grown sick of staying still. _This... really is... the end...? _He tightened his grip on Lavi, but couldn't stop the trembling from overexerted muscles. His eyes slipped shut and he buried his face in his friend's chest, trying to suppress the sobs. His shoulders shuddered anyway.

"Oh Allen..." he jerked away from the gentle hand, but couldn't resist looking into Road's eyes. They shone with sadistic joy, contrasting with her sad smile, and he tried to knock away the hand that wiped at his tears. She clasped it and held on instead. "You know something, my doll? I don't have to do anything to you."

He stared at her, trying to tell her without words he didn't understand. His head felt muggy, heavy, thick. She lent in close and pressed her forehead against his, smiling. He wanted to pull away... but he felt so tired.

If only they'd get it over and done with, and stop this waiting...

"I don't have to do anything to you, because you're already broken," she planted a light kiss on his lips. "My broken doll," she kissed him again. "You see him, don't you?" he jerked out of his haze and she giggled. "I thought so."

"Road," Tyki murmured, encompassing so much into one name. The female Noah pouted and pulled back, letting go of his hand. For a second Allen wanted nothing more than her warmth again. The rain, and the world, and Lavi's body, looked to be a lonely, painful, cold place.

"Don't worry, we'll be together again soon," she whispered into his ear, stroking a strand of hair. "Then we can play all we want..." but he couldn't be sure if she'd said that, for his vision finally slipped and he heard a roar other than the wind and the rain. He could hear his own heart beat, pounding away, slowing with each breath. Something so tiny could hold so much power over life, and death. His chest shuddered with the effort to grasp more air.

The next time he managed to focus enough to see, the Noah had already disappeared. They'd left the exorcists to die.

His breath came out in a white puff of air, only to be shredded by the rain. In the distance he could see lights, hear voices, and he flinched away, pulling Lavi closer. He might not be able to do anything more for him, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

"Allen-kun!"

He knew that voice.

"Allen-kun! Lavi!"

The emotions threatened to drown him.

_You tried, Lenalee, _he watched through half-lidded eyes as she landed and knelt beside them. Her mouth moved and her eyes looked tearful, but he couldn't hear what she said. He just smiled and told her not to worry. A Princess shouldn't cry, after all. He didn't understand why that caused her to burst into sobs.

_You tried, but you were too late to save me.

* * *

_

"_The implanted memories will eventually erode the host and change you into the fourteenth."_

The world seemed darker than he remembered.

The flickering light above did nothing to ease the nightmares of the night. It felt like the light itself had trickled out, drop by drop, to leave behind a desolate world of fear. Could anyone else see the change? Or had his eyes grown dim after what he'd been through?

He wished his friends walked with him now. No matter how dark the world grew, they still sparkled like the sun; they brought warmth and life into a dull grey void.

Except he'd lost one of those lights.

His hand clamped over his mouth, stifling the sob. He slumped against the windowsill, fighting back tears, and gazed out at the night sky. Fierce grey clouds hid the moon, and from his high point he saw nothing but foggy shapes moving on the grounds. The trees had never been very stable when the wind howled.

The Head Nurse hadn't let him out of the infirmary yet. He shouldn't be out when his body still ached, his wounds still lingered and with his mind stilled fractured – but he hadn't been able to stand the sight of the last time he'd seen Lavi, pale and lifeless on the bed opposite. Just because the sheets had been changed didn't mean he couldn't see the blood. Lavi's lifeblood.

He'd had to get out, had to escape, though he hadn't been well enough to leave.

A sudden movement caught his eye. He blinked at the glass pane and felt his blood turn to ice at the sight of the grinning face. He recoiled and stumbled on, ducking his gaze to avoid accidentally catching his reflection and seeing what threatened to be, what he refused to be for as long as he breathed and fought and _walked_; even if walking seemed harder with every step and lost friend.

And the glares, the stares that followed him, that whispered and taunted and feared. Never mind he fought for them, never mind he'd gladly die for them. He was cursed, filthy and unworthy of their love, just like he'd been unworthy of Mana's love – if Mana had ever loved him.

This time, his sob couldn't be muffled.

"Mana..." he moaned, clutching his right arm to his chest. The nerves had yet to truly heal, but it hurt less when he cradled it like a child. "Mana, how do I keep walking when there's no path to tread?" But could he even trust in Mana's last words? His beloved father, the only person who hadn't cared about his arm, had not been who Allen thought.

Could everything really be a lie?

He felt too tired, too weary, to tread his own path. Maybe, if his Innocence didn't wage war within, and someone found the starting line, he might make it – but blisters covered his feet and he needed support, just for a little while. Yet no one wanted to give it.

Seconds later, a loud thud and a sharp pain in his toes threw him out of his misery. He blinked at the metal door, mouth slightly ajar, and then glanced around the area. He didn't recognise anything.

"Typical," a weak smile crept on his face. "I still managed to get lost in the HQ after all this time..."

He shook his head and peered around one last time – double-checking he couldn't see anything familiar – before facing the door again. Maybe something in there would tell him where he'd ended up. "Could it be someone's room?" he wondered, using his left hand to twist the handle. The door swung open with a creak and he peered inside.

A large window on the other side seemed to be the only thing of note. He stepped in, tripped over a rug and, on his way down, knocked into a small table and sent it crashing to the ground. Pain flared up everywhere and, though he bit back his moans, he couldn't stop his body's tremors. It hurt everywhere, like needles poking into his skin. He really shouldn't have come out of the infirmary so soon.

Gradually, once the pain dulled to a cold ache, he staggered to his feet, coughing every now and then to clear the phlegm that had settled in his chest. Well, either phlegm or blood – he couldn't tell the difference yet.

He exhaled and stepped further into the room, keeping a sharp eye on the floor for any further hindrances. The clouds outside must have moved because the moonlight shone through the window, giving a silhouette to each item he could see. For the first time, he noticed the dust particles decorating the living room – and blinked. How odd. The dust suggested no one had been here for a long time, but all the furniture suggested someone had intended to use this room.

Something gleamed. He twisted, focusing on the full-length, sparkling silver mirror. He'd been avoiding his reflection the entire time in fear of what he'd see, but something... inside of him... encouraged his foot to take one tiny step.

And another.

And another.

He stopped in front of it and stared at his reflection. The cursed pentacle, a mark of Mana; his white hair, a reminder of his sin; his bandaged arm, a supposed gift from God. Would anyone believe him if he told them he used to have brown hair?

Hesitantly, he brought a hand up and tugged a few strands. What would they look like brown? What would he look like if he hadn't given into despair that night?

The grinning face of the fourteenth caught his attention. He stared at the monster without a name and then rest his palm against the mirror. Almost mocking him, the fourteenth copied his movement. For a second, they remained connected, then he flinched back and narrowed his gaze at the other.

"I won't let you win," he snarled.

"Allen Walker..." the figure mouthed.

"I won't. I won't give in, not while I have something to live for," he stood taller, letting the words settle in his bones and soothe the cracks Mana's deceit had wrought. "I won't let you become me. I won't let you murder my friends." He slammed his left fist against the mirror and it shattered into a thousand pieces. They scattered on the ground, tinkling, and after a moment he sunk to his knees, staring at nothing in particular.

He would keep walking, except this time, he would pave his own path. He'd been walking Mana's before, and now others fought to get him to walk the fourteenth's, but he refused. He would walk his own path, and his alone – wherever it would lead.

Blood trickled from the open cuts in his hand. He grimaced at the gleaming glass, wondering why he felt no pain, and got back to his feet. He had to go to the infirmary and get it bandaged, and then he would sleep, and when morning came, he would cry for the friend he'd lost.

Then, he would continue walking and help others to do the same.

* * *

"_What would you do if I told you you'll have to kill someone you love when you become the fourteenth?"_

No matter how hard it tried, the rain couldn't wash away the stains upon the wreckage.

Why did it always seem to be raining now?

He tipped his head back and gazed up at the sky. The droplets bounced off his face almost painfully, washing away grime and blood. He welcomed the sting; it reminded him he was still human. It reminded him he still had reason to fight.

Every cloud has a silver lining, right?

Scoffing, he looked back to the damage. They hadn't been able to save the town. No matter how strong they'd been, two exorcists couldn't tackle so many akuma whilst protecting people. He'd had to watch, powerless, as souls shrieked in agony at the torment they inflicted, while humans screamed in agony for the life that was stolen. An endless, bloody cycle.

"Allen-kun..." the tiny hand penetrated the cold, giving him a warmth he'd almost forgotten. He blinked and turned to look at Lenalee. Against the backdrop, she looked pitifully small, helpless and innocent. She represented all he'd lost.

He desired nothing more than to keep her safe... but he couldn't trust himself.

Pulling out of her grip, he told himself the hurt in her eyes was the lesser of two evils. Thankfully she didn't try to touch him again, but the silence swirled around them, somehow more powerful than the rain. "Allen-kun..." she whispered again, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. It stuck there. He must have made a noise in response, although he didn't know what, for she continued.

"Did you... did you really kill Lavi?"

The worst part was... he couldn't say no. He shrugged, turning away from her to look back at the sky. He couldn't look at her wounded look anymore.

"If I did, I have no conscious memory of it," he replied, forcing his voice to sound dead. They both knew what his words meant. "I don't remember the battle clearly enough to be certain anymore..." He'd automatically assumed Tyki or Road had been responsible, he hadn't for an instant considered that he'd done it.

But, if he really had been the one...

"I don't think you did," his eyes widened and he turned to her. She watched him with a tiny smile, but couldn't quite hide the nerves in her eyes. She gradually stepped across the dirt road until she stood in front of him, and then she gently raised her hand to cup his cheek.

He tried to move away, but his feet had been glued to the spot, "Lenalee, I'm dangerous..." She had to hurry up and leave. What if he did something to hurt her? "Please, go..."

"Allen-kun, you wouldn't hurt a fly if you could help it," her smile grew a little bigger in amusement. "Even while fighting Noah, you try to find a way to save them before killing them," the ground crunched beneath her feet. "I know you didn't kill Lavi." Even though she whispered, he heard her like she'd been shouting.

"You don't know that-"

"Yes, I do," she interrupted, dropping her hand from his cheek to entwine their fingers. "Road was lying, Allen-kun. You could never kill Lavi, and you're not the fourteenth. You're _not..._" she focused on the ground briefly, and he wondered who she was trying to convince. When she looked up again, however, he took an involuntary step back at the conviction in her face, her voice. "You're not because... Lavi wasn't your closest friend, was he?"

His breath caught.

The words hung painfully between them. She was right, of course, Lenalee had always been right; Lavi had been one of his best friends, someone he'd loved and fought for, but... someone still remained that he trusted above all else. One that he knew he wouldn't be able to live without.

"You have to get out of here," he whispered, trying to tug his hand out of hers. "Lenalee, you have to get away from me. If you're not around me, I won't-" His cheek stung from her slap.

He stared at her, mouth slightly open, as tears fell to speckle the ground between them. She tried to wipe at them with her free arm, but they kept falling and, eventually, she gave up trying.

"Don't tell me what to do!" she hiccuped, trying for a glare and only making his heart wrench. "I trust you, Allen-kun. But – but even if you did k-kill me..."

"Lenalee..."

"Even if you did, I wouldn't blame you," she wrapped both her arms around his neck, hugging him close. "It wouldn't be _you_, it would be _it. _You wouldn't kill me. We see you struggle each day, fighting that thing, and... we know you'll win. We know you'll win, because _we _love you, Allen-kun."

He swallowed, hesitantly moving to hold her waist. "We won't let you go without a fight, Allen-kun. We're all here supporting you, if you'll only let us help. I'm here for you."

She couldn't be speaking the truth. He'd seen the suspicion, the fear. They'd tried to avoid him... hadn't they? Why did it suddenly seem so hard to remember? There had been fear, of course but... had any of his friends acted that way? Or had he been the one avoiding them?

"Do you see?" she pulled back and locked eyes with his, "I could never leave you Allen-kun, because I – because I love you."

They stared at each other, and he felt his eyes starting to burn with the familiar sting of tears. Only Mana had ever – but he'd ended up doubting Mana's love. Yet Lenalee, she knew him fully... she knew everything and still...

Before he could stop himself, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers. She tensed only for a second before melting into his arms. He pulled her closer, but kept the kiss light, instead soaking her warmth like a sponge and helping him find the way.

For a moment, he felt the clouds break apart, and rays of light shone down on the bloody massacre.

If every cloud had a silver lining... Allen's involved a melodious laugh, soft words and a sweet smile.

* * *

"_These feelings come from my heart, from the real me."_

The pills looked so tiny in his hand; white specks against the coarse black skin. It felt like one wrong move, one squeeze too much, and they'd be crushed instantly. They'd stood no chance.

Just like Lenalee, who had felt so tiny in his arms and so fragile he'd been scared to break her. He hadn't been able to stop thinking like that, even on the nights he curled up in her arms and felt her cocoon him from the temptations of the fourteenth. She soothed the ache.

It was amazing how easily life could be crushed out. How quickly it could be snuffed.

Just like how quickly Lenalee had disappeared, late for a debriefing, without even a proper goodbye for the mission she'd never return from. Miranda, too. Ambushed by twelve Noah... they'd never stood a chance.

Intel had been wrong. Technically, Komui had sent her to her death. No one said it, and everyone knew it couldn't be helped, but they'd thought it. They couldn't blame anyone, especially not the one who'd loved her so. Komui had disappeared completely, but no one had the strength to find him.

She'd gone.

And his last hope had gone with her.

He closed his fingers over the pills and slumped against the headboard. Things had spiralled out of control so fast. Lavi, and later Bookman... Lenalee, Miranda and now Komui... like flies, one by one, they'd been swatted. The worst part came from knowing that, even if they took a Noah down with them, they would eventually return to cause more havoc. Yet, the exorcists remained dead.

Just whose side was God on now?

It was cheating. It was unfair. It was life.

And it meant that they were losing this war.

Without Lenalee, the cold couldn't be penetrated. He felt empty, numb. He... wanted to give up. He wanted to take the pills and go to sleep and never wake up. He had a glass of water, he had the pills in his hand... he could easily do it...

... but his left hand trembled in front of his open mouth, almost frozen in place by a spell.

All it would take was a little tip. Everything would be over, and he would sleep, and he'd see Lavi and Miranda, Master and Mana, Lenalee; he'd see peace and hope, so why wouldn't his hand move? Didn't it want to see Lenalee too?

"Beansprout!"

He'd always been so annoyed whenever anyone called him that. Even though Kanda had been the one to come up with it, it had become a pet name – Lavi used to have so much fun riling him up. "Beansprout!" Maybe the numbness had taken away even the bad emotions. It felt odd to not care about the nickname, and yet... it felt right. Wrong and right. Black and white. The pills in his hand.

A sob escaped. How could the war have taken away the only people who could lift the darkness?

Just as he won the battle with his Innocence and started to tip his hand, something hard and heavy ploughed into him, sending it and him off the bed and onto the floor in a heap of limbs and squeaks. The pills scattered to the four corners, while the glass shattered and sounded so loud in the heavy silence.

He wheezed, blinking past the stars in his eyes, and then finally focused on what had attacked him. He shuddered at the anger in Kanda's eyes.

"You fucking coward," the older boy hissed, glaring at him with such passion he found it hard to breathe. The younger tried to give as good as he got, but then Kanda moved to straddle him and grip his neck, and he couldn't do anything other than gasp. "You were really going to do it, weren't you?"

"K-Kanda-"

"Shut up!" the male bared his teeth. "Shut the fuck up! Only cowards take their own life! Are you a coward?!" Allen glared but, instead of responding, just turned away and stared at the wall. Kanda sneered. "Look at you. You're pathetic."

The older boy didn't understand. He'd never bothered to try and understand before, so why should Allen bother now? Kanda could believe what he wanted. The instant he left, Allen would go back to what he'd been doing and the other wouldn't be any wiser. Until it was over. And by then, he'd be gone, he'd be with Lenalee.

"Fucking ridiculous," Kanda sighed and then forced Allen to look at him. "What happened to you, beansprout?" Allen blinked. "When did you stop walking?"

"Why do you care?" he winced as Kanda's grip tightened slightly in punishment.

"I don't," the other hissed. "If it were up to me, I'd be out of here before you could count to three. But I made a promise, and unlike some, I _keep mine_. Why the fuck did you decide to take the cowards way out?"

"I kept my promise!" he snapped.

"Of course, I simply imagined you intending to overdose and fucking give _up. _You _can't _give up, now more than ever." Kanda lowered his voice, going from dangerously angry to just dangerous. "Without Lenalee and Lavi, everyone is looking to you to fill their hope. Are you willing to abandon everyone?"

Allen sneered, "They're putting their hopes on the same person they're scared is going to murder them in the night?" he rolled his eyes. "Why should I? The instant I do something wrong, they'll drag me off to Central and 'deal' with me."

"You think we'd let them?"

They stared at each other, one wide-eyed and the other impassive. Allen swallowed, flickering his gaze away from anything except the dark orbs. He knew the answer was yes... wasn't it? Hadn't they threatened his execution enough times, and no one had said otherwise?

Why would they try and stop Central taking him away?

"Too many people care about you, beansprout," Kanda finally let go of his throat, and the rush of air made him light-headed. "They need you now more than ever."

"... I'm so tired..." he whispered, shutting his eyes. Why had he been designated their hope? The boy who'd once been a street rat, now the pinnacle of the light?

"Forget the lies, forget the deceit, and remember. What kept you holding onto that promise so tightly?"

The older boy finally got off of him. Allen slowly sat up, eyes going to the glass on the floor. He gradually pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, not bothering to look up when Kanda left the room. He stared at the pieces of glass, wondering if they represented his shattered heart... and thought back to that fateful night so many years ago.

Walking had been his last link to Mana, but... it had also become a part of him.

Long after Kanda had left, he finally got to his feet and started to pick up the pieces of glass. He ignored the way they cut at his palms, but let the sting remind him he was alive.

He couldn't let everyone die in vain.

* * *

"_In the end, do you always have to sacrifice something to protect something else?"_

He couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't _breathe_.

Blood welled up in his throat and he spat it out, joining the puddles surrounding his broken body. The shackles on his wrists and ankles jingled at the movement, sending pain through the weeping gashes on each joint, and he didn't bother to hide a whimper.

What a pitiful excuse of the proud exorcist he'd once been. How many weeks had he been here? How many times had he silently begged for relief?

Maybe, it would be better if he knew whether Kanda had escaped. His last memory, just before someone shoved a black bag over his head, hadn't been too promising. The samurai had been surrounded by the Noah, fighting desperately to keep up. He hadn't seen or heard any sign of Kanda since arriving, not that surprising, but no matter how many times he'd asked his captors had never answered. Usually, he'd just get a whipping for daring to ask a question.

With all his might, he hoped Kanda had escaped.

_Let me in Allen..._

He resolutely ignored the whisper, refusing to think about how it had grown louder the longer he remained trapped. No one else could hear it, as he'd found out, so either he'd gone insane... or the voice belonged to _him_.

_I can finish it. Let me in..._

It had made silken promises during the times he'd been at his lowest, but he had refused to give in. It had tried, over and over, and each time it got harder to fight against. All his reasons seemed to be slipping away from him one by one, no matter how much he desperately tried to remember them. He'd sworn to keep his mind, hadn't he? He'd refused to let it in, hadn't he?

His friends' efforts would go to waste if he let it in... wouldn't they?

The Black Order probably thought him dead. If they thought him dead, they'd never look for him and never find out that he'd given up. He wouldn't have to see their reactions... but that was cowardice. Out of sight, out of mind had never worked before.

If they didn't believe him dead, they probably thought that he'd betrayed them. They would have resigned themselves to seeing the fourteenth on their next meeting. Why should he disappoint?

Lenalee... she'd thought he would win. Could he really let her memory down?

The metal door swung open, gently clicking on the stone walls. A tall figure blocked any light from entering the tiny room, but even the small slivers made him wince and turn away. He hadn't seen light for so long...

"How the mighty have fallen."

His head snapped up to stare horrified at the visitor. When he saw nothing familiar, however, confusion replaced horror. Who was this stranger? Why did he sound so much like the Earl? The new man stepped into the room, and the light revealed a white coat and a black top hat. The same clothes the Earl wore.

The Earl... had become human?

"You look surprised," the Earl smirked, bending until his face was close to Allen's. The captive could see faint stubble around his chin. "Did you expect me to look otherwise?"

Enraged by the smirk on the bastard's face, Allen did the only thing he could think of. He spat in the Earl's face. The monster seemed to freeze before moving back and pulling out a hanky from his pocket. He wiped his face with an amused look. "I thought you'd learnt better than to antagonise your captors, Allen."

_Let me out._

He remained silent, unwilling to give the other an opening – and unable to speak because of the renewed pressure in his mind.

_I can fight him. Let me out._

The Earl held up a pink umbrella. The pumpkin on the end muttered love and praise for her master, ignoring the way she now pointed at Allen. For a second, the exorcist wondered what would happen, and then a bloom of pain as his shoulder shattered. He screamed, but his throat was already so raw that the sound wouldn't come.

"You know, if you make a sound, I'll go easy on you," he grinned, pointing at Allen's kneecap and shattering that joint as well. Allen thrashed around, tears falling down his cheeks as he tried to escape the umbrella.

He didn't care about appearance, about being strong. He just wanted the pain to end, just wanted to give up and escape far, far away -

- everything went white.

The pain disappeared.

The shackles that held him in place had gone. With nothing holding him up, he fell face-first into the meadow, accidentally biting into soil. He spat it out with a grimace, before realising something seriously odd had just happened. He sat up, peering around curiously. The flowers swayed back and forth, but he couldn't feel a wind. The sun beamed down, but he couldn't feel a warmth. The grass looked wet with dew, but he couldn't feel the wet.

After a moment, he realised something about himself felt different. He looked down and froze, eyes wide at the unblemished skin – on both hands. He lifted his arms up, looking at one and then the other, but they looked identical. His Innocence... had gone?

Something red and brown fell into his vision. He looked around, trying to see what it was, before realising it was his hair. He gasped and took hold of a lock, inspecting the colour. He'd forgotten about the red tinge; he'd just remembered brown. Why wouldn't he? The red had never been too noticeable, though he'd always thought it separated him from the others on the streets.

"Allen."

Mind boggling at these two new discoveries – desires he'd long accepted would never come true – he twisted around and narrowed his eyes at this stranger, tense and ready to fight if necessary. The person strode over the grass and, before Allen could stop him, sat down cross-legged in front of him. "You have nothing to fear," the man murmured, meeting his eyes evenly.

"Where am I?" Realising he wouldn't be a threat, Allen shifted to sit in an identical position.

"This is your mind, your sanctuary," the man gave a slight smile. "Nothing can harm you here."

"Is that why I'm like this?" he gestured to his hair and arm. The man laughed, and Allen blinked. He hadn't expected it to sound so merry. In fact, it sounded a lot like... Mana's laughter...

"In your mind, you look how you want to look. You're not really here. I know you feel real, but you're just a... copy of the original," Allen stared at him. "You're a part of Allen, yes, but you're not all of him. You came here because... because your mind shattered."

"What?"

"Your mind is gone, Allen. Months of torture and isolation would do the same to any other person," the stranger shook his head. "I'm surprised you held on as long as you did, to be honest."

Odd, but he somehow knew the other couldn't lie. Maybe because of where they were, but he just... knew the man hadn't lied. He couldn't return to who he'd once been.

Allen sat back and looked up at the sunny sky. If this was his mind, then he knew where they were – a field of roses he'd once passed through with Lenalee. The flowers had been so pretty, and she had been glowing... he had refused to let go of that happy time, no matter what happened.

What would happen now, then?

"Allen, just because your mind is shattered doesn't mean you're dead," Allen looked back at the man, attention snagged instantly by the urgent tone. "The Earl is still torturing your body, but I don't know how long it'll be until he stops. Allen, you're never going to have another chance to kill the Earl. He won't be expecting it. He let his guard down the instant he stepped inside your room."

"What can I do?" he murmured, knowing within his heart he'd do anything to get rid of the Earl. He had accepted long ago it might result in his death, but if all his remaining friends could live...

"Let me in."

He narrowed his eyes at the male – the man he now knew to be the fourteenth. He looked extremely different to the grinning figure in his reflections. Now, he looked like a desperate man who had nothing to hide and everything to gain. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm asking for your help. I know a way to defeat the Earl, once and for all. I can even do it while he's torturing you -"

"- but until I give up, you can't do a thing," Allen finished, biting his lip gently. The fourteenth spoke truth, and... and Allen had said he'd be willing to do anything to get rid of the Earl. "Can you promise me that you'll finish him?"

"Yes," the fourteenth nodded. "I'm certain this will work."

"And what will happen after?" _What will happen to you?_

"... I don't know," he sighed. "What I'm intending to do is very dangerous. It will, most likely, involve my death; which I'd be willing to do to get rid of the Earl. I've already done it before, after all," he grinned. "But there's a chance I might survive, in which case I'd be in your body. Er, or what's left of it."

Allen swallowed. The thought of someone else controlling him... but he wouldn't, would he? If the fourteenth took over, Allen would cease to be. He'd have nothing to worry about. "Your body will crumple, Allen, and your mind is irreversibly shattered. You're as good as dead already – at least try and make something out of it. Not many people have the chance to take revenge on their killer."

He had a point. If he had do die, he'd rather die knowing he'd taken the Earl with him. "Allen, you won't be a puppet to anyone if you let me in. Not to the Order, not to your master... not to Mana, either." The teenager bowed his head.

It had been true, then.

"If you'll promise to not harm any of my friends, then tell me what I must do," he whispered. Taking this as his acceptance, the other nodded once and then they heard a large ripping sound. Allen gasped and scrambled backwards as the ground between him and the fourteenth split. The gap grew wider and wider, with the brunette frantically trying to avoid falling over the edge.

When the distance became twenty metres, it stopped. Breathing heavily, Allen looked fearfully at the fourteenth, who now stood pointing into the new canyon.

"Just step off," he said, and despite his distance he sounded right next to him. "You won't feel a thing, I promise."

Just... step off?

Allen got to his feet, limbs jerking, and made his way to the edge of the cliff. He couldn't see a bottom, just a murky blackness that scared him more than anything else in his life had. But, if this was his mind, it knew what he feared the most and probably put it to represent death.

He looked back at the fourteenth. The man smiled the saddest smile that Allen had ever seen, and it made his heart wrench painfully. The similarities between him and Mana were stifling.

Letting the tears fall, he tried not to think about what he was doing and tipped his body forward. It seemed to take an age before he finally tumbled off the cliff, and where the rush of wind should be, he could only hear a painful silence.

"Mana did love you, you know," he heard whispered, as he shut his eyes. "Honestly loved _you_. No one else ever made him smile so much. Not even me. Thank you."

"... thank you..." he whispered, finally feeling like a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

And then everything stopped.

* * *

"_As long as we keep moving forward for what we believe in, it will be alright._

_We'll all end up smiling in the end."

* * *

_"Who will bring me flowers when it's over?  
And who will give me comfort when it's cold?  
And who will I belong to when the day just won't give in?  
And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins?"

- Flowers for a Ghost, Thriving Ivory.

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **This was, perhaps, the most depressing story I've ever written. Well, no it wasn't. I really enjoyed writing it, once I actually managed to put aside my desires for a happy ending and instead go for realistic. And once I actually figured out where I was going with it. That took quite a lot of time. After all, this has been sat on my desktop for months until I finally got around to finishing it. Heh. To be honest, I was going to have one more scene - the funeral one - but that wouldn't be from Allen's point of view, and this whole story was supposed to be from that. It was meant to be vague about time passing, it was supposed to be confusing at times. I'm sorry if you guys think it ended abruptly.

Uhm, lesse now. The song is called 'Flowers for a Ghost' by Thriving Ivory. If you listen to the whole song properly, I reckon it really represents Allen's fight with the fourteeth - hence why it's here. Go listen. GO NOW. It's... heartbreaking. At least for me. :P All the words in italics are from three chapters - 167, 168 and 186, if I remember correctly. It's either Cross or Allen speaking.

Thanks for reading! Remember kiddies, reviews are your friends!


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